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The BOMB

Welcome to the BOMB.

The BlogOf the"Mother"of Bandit.

Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)

I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!

Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .”
So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

A friend tagged me on Face Book after viewing a video of a cute little kitten playing whack-a-finger with his human, and said I need to play this game with Moggy. I replied I would likely loose a hand because Moggy's fangs rival a vampire and his claws are unclipped. (I should have liken them to Edward Scissorhands, but only thought of it just now.)

I didn't think anymore of the video.

Until tonight.

Once again, I'm so tired I fell asleep sitting up at the table eating my chunky salad. Why is it a chunky salad? Because all the veggies that were not pre-sliced, are cut very chunky--I'm too tired to make finer cuts. And it wasn't even a supper busy day.

I was without my Social Worker, so I did a few things outside my job rather than wait for her replacement to do them--but it wasn't anything I'm not capable of doing, or haven't done before. I slept well last night. I recently had my Iron transfusion, and other than it getting close to time for my B12 injection, there really wasn't a good reason for me to be so tired. But, for whatever reason I fell asleep.

And Moggy decided to wake me up playing his version of "whack-the-hand-that-feeds-the-spoiled-rescue-kitty."

Moggy stood on the stool under the table--the one I was supposed to be elevating my tired tootsies on, leaned his upper torso onto my lap, and with "Scissor-hand" claws extended, in fast succssession he swiped first my tummy, then my hand, then my tummy again, then my hand again--all I saw was a blurr of white shooting out from under the table. As I came fully awake and started reacting and trying to bat his paws away, he started slapping his unsheathed paws down on my hands to trap them on my lap.

And because he's freakishly fast-pawed, he was successful. Every. Time.

Then Bandit tried to defend me and Moggy turned on him. My hands are sliced and lightly bleeding from The Game. And attempting to separate The Boys.

Moggy's a mean playing, little tiger-cat of terror. He's lucky Bandit tolerates him most of the time, and I think he's cute...otherwise he would be returned to the Street Life faster than he can whack my hand.